


Baker's Choice

by fairytalehearts



Series: Songfics...Sort of [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalehearts/pseuds/fairytalehearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Felicity is a baker and Oliver is- Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baker's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago I decided I was going to let music inspire me to write fics...and then five years and four different fandoms later, here it is! :)  
> This is inspired the Tristan Prettyman song, "The Story" which you can listen to on [Spotify](https://play.spotify.com/track/7D1No6dobdV7rYnF3ggn0i) or [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NHyGANyFZE) if you'd like.

“We need doughnuts.”

Oliver doubted that they needed doughnuts at 4AM, but apparently Tommy knew a guy who knew someone who knew that worked at the little bakery on 3rd street and that the overnighters made the doughnuts first on Sunday mornings, something, something, bullshit, bullshit.

“I want to go home and sleep until Monday when I have to go to work. We’re getting too old to be partying all weekend.” The only thing he was concerned with was getting back to his hotel and trying to remember to request aspirin with his room service. He made it a habit not to come back to Starling too often but Tommy’s birthday was Tommy’s birthday.

What was he living for if not to royally celebrate Tommy’s 25th birthday? And maybe dodge his parents the whole time he was back.

Crossing the street after Tommy’s drunk ass, he went to open the back door of the bakery just as someone was coming out. Tommy hit the ground, the woman carrying a cake oblivious to the drunk on the ground and tripped.

Oliver wasn’t sure if he should go for the girl, his friend, or the cake until she not so eloquently barked, “Get the cake!”

Oliver did his best but the various layers had flown up into the air at spectacular angles and he did his best but he missed the bottom layer which hit him in the face, and only ended up saving the first layer and it’s very amazing frosting job.

Tommy, thankfully, got to see the whole thing and snapped a few pictures with his phone.  “BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVVAAAA!”

“I’m sorry about him. And the cake. We were promised doughnuts.” Oliver didn’t know why he was apologizing when he was the one who got smacked in the face with a cake. The girl literally says ‘Eep’ before running back inside to grab a new box for what was left of the cake.

She wraps it up carefully before setting it in the front seat of her Mini Cooper.

“Thank you for saving my cake. I’m entering it into a baking competition tomorrow and as good as you’d look wearing nothing but frosting I really need to get going. Felicity.” She thrusts her hand out and he shakes it.

If he were his old self, he would ask her to dinner. But he wasn’t and he was heading back to L.A. in the morning. “It was nice to meet you Felicity. The cake- tastes great. My name’s Oliver.”

“Tommy. Charmed, I’m sure. Where are the _doughnuts_?”

“Get up, Merlyn.” Oliver chuckled, turning to go inside the bakery. The girl, Felicity, he corrected, had a lot of belongings packed into the tiny car and he had the distinct impression he would not be seeing her again.

The two of them shared a look and then she was gone.

Late night doughnuts were apparently a thing, the tiny bakery was packed. Oliver hugged Tommy and said his goodbyes to his friend’s family when he deposited him back home. The paper bag would sit on his bedside stand until morning. The doughnuts were horrible. Very salty and- not sweet at all.

“Good thing she got out while she could,” Oliver mumbled heading to the airport with a sour taste in his mouth.

**

“Welcome to the _Baker’s Choice_ Finale!”

Felicity straightened her apron, one she had made herself from old flour sacks, not one the other contestants opted for made by the costume designer. They also wore the poofy hat and chef jackets which was ridiculous. She had packed up everything and headed for the show and if they weren’t putting her up in a hotel for the six weeks of filming she really had nowhere to go.

She refused to go back to Vegas with her tail between her legs. Not that she had a tail.

Re-doing her ponytail, she headed into the pre-finale mixer put on by the sponsors and hoped they liked the tarts she made in anticipation of the big day. It was a sucker’s move not to bake anything for the sponsor event, her “competition” opting to go to the spa day instead of meeting people who could potentially change her life. Bakers didn’t need the spa, they needed funding for their projects.

She, being a google expert aside from a science genius already had her practiced pitch for new baking equipment for real bakers and not the bright colored accessories that broke after three uses. And she had broken her share of mixers. She also wanted a minimum of three cookbooks, two bakeries and her own chickens.

“Mr. Merlyn!” Felicity found her whale and walked right up towards-

“-Doughnut Girl!” The man’s blue eyes twinkled as he shoved another one of her tarts into his face. “This is amazing!”

She digs her fingernails into her hand to keep from saying it, she really tried to keep it in, but she blurts, “That’s because there’s vodka in the crust and we all know how much you like to drink.”

He almost drops the tart before he starts laughing, “Well I’m glad your sense of humor is better than those doughnuts. Ollie and I thought they were terrible.”

She remembered the handsome stranger who saved her audition cake. Briefly wondering if he was here as well, she kept herself focused. Merlyn Global was one of the main sponsors of the show and impressing their VP would go a long way. Even if she didn’t win the show (which was highly unlikely) she could use one of their small business grants to open her own bakery.

“Good. I put salt in instead of sugar. That asshole wouldn’t let me leave for the show.”

Tommy Merlyn, billionaire, starts laughing again and wraps an arm around her shoulders introducing her to her the other bigwigs.

“Felicity Smoak. Let me talk to you about my post-show plans.”

She repeated the spiel to every person in the room, and maybe that old saying about winning people through their stomachs was true.

“If you’re available, my daughter’s birthday is January 21st. We could talk more about your cookbook plans, I’ll bring my consumer book editor to do a little- taste test.”

“I’ll definitely be there Mrs. Queen.” Whipping out her phone she checked her calendar and penciled her in, “Client consultation on the 15th, just have your people contact my people- or well, me.  I have no people. Yet- With a time. I can meet you at Queen Consolidated?”

“I’ll set it up.”

Felicity was sure that her manic smile and urge to scream was what won her the competition. The lights died down and they took her to the offices to hand out her prize.

Which she did not want. At all.

“Let me negotiate this a little and you can keep the car.” Felicity was a businesswoman first, baker second. She pulled out her pre-filled out paperwork and pitched them her idea.

**

“It’s our sister’s birthday. Of course I came.” Oliver pointed out, sipping his drink. Apparently some celebrity had baked the cake and was catering the whole ordeal which meant all of his mother’s “work friends” were coming to meet the _Baker’s Choice_ winner.

Tommy chuckled, “You’ve met her actually. Doughnut Girl? That one’s a handful. She renegotiated her whole winner’s package and she’s looking for space in L.A. You know me, I love it when people make it hard for my father.”

Oliver scanned his memory for what the woman looked like but couldn’t remember. He did remember the cake, which was delicious even smeared all over his face. Tommy had a Facebook picture of the two of them covered in cake debris, and he mentally made a note to go look for it after Thea’s birthday weekend.

Tommy’s date- Iris something, looked stunning talking to the bartender.

“I’m gonna marry that girl.”

“That’s what you said about Laurel.”

“Big plus with this one, she’s not gonna cheat on me with He-Who-Is-On-My-Shitlist.” Tommy smiled, “And trust me, a gentleman never tells but-” Tommy made some hand motions Oliver wasn’t clear on, but his shit-eating grin got even wider while he was doing it.

“Merlyn! Get over here! We’re doing shots.”

Tommy turned around to walk backwards and mouthed, ‘Best. Girlfriend. Ever.’

Deciding to go find his sister, he headed towards the door inside when someone clamped their hand over his mouth and dragged him into the alcove. The other hand went over his eyes and it had definitely been awhile since anyone shoved him in any alcove.

Thinking better of it, the woman removed her hand from his mouth.

“Don’t tell anyone but the Woman of Honor is kinda having sex with her boyfriend in the kitchen. Right next to my appetizers. And as much as I’d like the guests to be happy, walking in on the birthday girl would probably piss her and her mother off and this is my first really good, paying, did I mention paying, gig and I need to really work my ass off if I want my career to take off and I know Tommy’s been great with negotiating with his father and he explained the whole “sister” thing to me and I know most people here already knew that but I didn’t and now I really don’t want to piss her off. So I’ve been sitting out here waiting for them to finish but I think they’re eating my appetizers while naked, and I am conflicted. And now I’ve kidnapped you.”

Oliver leans over to kiss her out of instinct, satisfied when their lips touch. She shut up instantly and she tasted like vanilla frosting.

“She’s my sister, I’ll go.” Oliver turned to go inside, but Thea was straightening her skirt, Roy putting his tux jacket back on. He turns around and the mystery woman is not there, the ponytail swishing around the kitchen while she laughs with Tommy and Iris.

**

_Three Years Later_

Twiddling her thumbs through yet another client meeting, Felicity walked the future Mr. And Mrs. Allen past her display table and into the sampling room where she had given 110% to the cake that would start their future together. All ten of them.

Sample cakes were her favorite, because really, the whole cake had to get eaten so making a sample slice of cake with her trademarked, 3D printed pans were the best parts of science coming together with frosting and flour.

Chocolate was too boring for the future Mrs. Allen, and Felicity had really worked her magic to come up with original creations. Nine out of ten of her clients wanted red velvet, which was delicious, but a little cliché for a wedding. Any cake could be red and if the chemistry experiment she had going in the back, her red champagne gel was going to be a huge success in her consumer line.

Winning _Baker’s Choice_ had been the best thing that happened to her. She used the cash wisely, got investors and instead of the 1 month lease on a space in Times Square she had negotiated her way into buying a building in cash with the money. Renovation money came from renting out the apartments on the second floor and her baby was fully funded for her to do whatever she wanted. L.A wasn’t as glamorous as Times Square but if celebs wanted to make the trek from San Diego or San Francisco, she was doing her job.

Like make wedding cakes once a year, taking only one client as she saw fit. It was fall and the bakery was doing well, why not take another client?

The groom kept looking at the door and if he had better things to do than eat cake then he should really leave while she was away from her knives-

The bell over the door jingled, a newcomer making his apologies, “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oliver, if you were on time we’d be worried.” Mr. Allen smiles, clapping him on the back. Felicity couldn’t see where she was spying on Laurel from the tasting room, but the two men made small talk before Laurel picked out her final three.

Felicity grabs the tray with Laurel’s final three choices and presents it to the group for final selection. She takes a step down, like she had millions of times, every day and her heel cracked, pitching her and the artfully arranged cake samples forward.

An arm whipped out to catch her, her precious babies still perfectly composed on the tray, “I’m a bit of a cake catching expert-”

Looking at his face (and his very expensive looking sunglasses) she did some mental math and added a bit off scruff and pictured very intense blue eyes and tried to stop the ‘Eep’ from coming out of her mouth.

The man that was featured in rotation in her dreams for the past three years. The one that signified the end of her old life and the beginning of her new life and the one her friends called “Her Future Husband”. Oliver.

“Felicity?” Oliver remembered her name. And he was still holding her in his arms while the future Mr. and Mrs. Allen stared at them with a look of confusion and shock.

Putting her down gently, he straightened his suit, and removed his sunglasses. Still gorgeous, damnit. “Do you drop your products often?”

“Please if I meant to drop my cakes in front of you, you’d know-” His eyes got bluer? Do eyes get bluer?

She needed to quit speaking in front of baked goods. The innuendos just came out! Of their own volition! “So now that I have run my mouth and almost died, I’ll let you sample the cakes while I drown myself in icing.”

Turning to head back to her kitchen, she forgot about the broken heel and tripped again. Oliver’s arms around her again, this time at the small of her back to steady her. Oliver bent down to remove her heels from her feet and handed them to her.

“What are you even doing here?” Felicity hissed, her cheeks on fire. She was embarrassed yes, but somehow, since it had been forever, she was also incredibly heated from someone caressing her ankles. She walked to the kitchen where she kept her work Crocs and slipped them on.

“Laurel is a family friend and Barry was my college roommate and who doesn’t pass up free cake? I was in the neighborhood, actually. Because I work across the street. I guess I didn’t realize Arrow Bakery was yours.”

That made no sense because across the street was owned by that rich dude and it was called Verdant Architecture- and he was Oliver Queen. The asshole who she ignored, despite his family drama and publicity.

“I moved into the neighborhood and sent your office cupcakes and you RETURNED THEM TWO DAYS LATER! I made them with a mint-chip ganache that I made from scratch and put little smiley faces on them! People freaking LOVE my cupcakes.”

Oliver blinks in confusion. “I didn’t get any cupcakes.”

Felicity went back to her consultation and was delighted when Laurel chose the hibiscus cake with the green tea frosting. They talk about size and the date and maybe she forgot about the handsome man who saved her cakes (literally) until her clients left.

He leaned against the doorframe and maybe she stepped a little too close to him, the two of them sharing the same air.

He could kiss her, just grab her face and they’d be making out. Like they were meant to be.

But his hands stay at his sides and he takes a cupcake from her display case. “Come visit me around lunch time tomorrow and I’ll pay you back.”

Felicity may have gotten up early to make the two of them lunch, and may have applied more lotion and makeup than normal and closed her tiny shop for the first time in ages, bright red picnic basket under her arm.

“Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Queen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Queen had an urgent family emergency last night and won’t be seeing anyone for a while. He left me a list of recommendations if you’d like a new architect.”

Felicity thanked his secretary and walked back to her bakery. Maybe they weren’t meant to be after all.

**

“You know just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you kidnap me to bake for you.”

Oliver heard the voice from a far and turned abruptly to see one very familiar Baker talking with Tommy.

“You are a guest. Aside from Tommy Merlyn’s Personal Baker, you are Tommy Merlyn’s friend. Now you’re going to be nice about eating someone else’s food, be nice to everyone and maybe not pimp your new bakery, book, or cooking show for a few hours.”

Oliver stood up from where he was sitting on the sidewalk, and did his best not to make the situation awkward. Which failed. Her eyes looked at him and then fell.

“Oh hey, do you guys remember- my last epic birthday party involved some late night doughnuts and Oliver caught your cake?”

He remembered.

“Yes. We saw each other at Thea’s birthday party. And his firm used to be across the street from my bakery before he mysteriously dropped everything to move back to Starling and run his father’s company. I sent cupcakes when Thea was in the hospital.”

She apparently remembered too.

Felicity made her excuses and went to go hug Iris and Laurel, chatting with Thea about getting “tea” next week.

“It’s weird, right? We met her once and she’s at all of our friends big events, she baked that awesome cake for Laurel’s wedding and those tarts for my birthday party. Seems like you two are never at the same place at the same time.”

Oliver supposed that was true. Because she was avoiding him because he was a Grade-A Asshole.

He had made a date, and then Thea was sick- his father retired and he was going to run the company in the interim, which turned out to be two years. He had her cookbooks in his kitchen, and Thea had signed copies at the loft she shared with Roy.

Barry, late as usual, jogs up to the group as they’re walking inside. “Please tell me Felicity brought her new cookbook. And some of those salted caramel crack tarts.”

Oliver wasn’t sure he knew what Barry was talking about, but if he and Tommy had finally buried the hatchet, then he was a believer in miracles.

“Hi Barry.”

“Hi Felicity.”

She grabbed a plastic package from her purse and handed it to him, “Of course I couldn’t let Bear go without his precious tarts.”

They were in the middle of ordering and he was eating six tarts like it was nothing. Barry stood up, glass of wine in hand and smiled, “Iris has been my best friend since we were kids, and that guy she’s gonna marry I’ve known since college. I just want you both to know that I love you and want you to be as happy as I am with Laurel. And please let Felicity bake the cake. The end.”

They eat dinner and Felicity avoids him until they’re outside the bar for after dinner drinks.

“You should have called. I knew Thea was in the hospital because I got phone calls. From Laurel, Tommy and Roy. Our friends. Which I don’t know why it took me this long to figure out because you are a jerk.”

Walking backwards, her heel catches on a crack in the sidewalk, his arms dart out to catch her, but the two of them fall to the ground and there was a nail or something in the sidewalk because he’s bleeding and it hurts-

“Damnit your supposed to catch me. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

They’re silent the whole ride to the hospital and when she talks to the admit nurse she says that he is her stupid boyfriend with no hesitation and when she looks at the blood on his leg she kisses his cheek and tells him everything is going to be alright.

He wants to believe her but he hated hospitals and hated sitting in the lobby and he might be having a panic attack until she kisses him. The two of them stay like that until the nurse has to poke him with a pen and then he hobbles to get his stitches and when he comes back she’s gone.

**

Walking around her new bakery with Caitlin, Felicity was happy with the headway her friend had made with the place. She was going to specialize in pastries, leaving her to worry about cakes in L.A. Turning on her heel she stumbled, a familiar arm to catch her.

“Now when your best friend tells you that there’s a new Arrow bakery in Central City doing a test run, you make sure you’re there.” Oliver has flowers and she’s covered in flour and her crappy apron and he doesn’t hesitate before kissing her breathless.

Pulling back, Felicity smiled, “Breakfast?”

“It’s 2PM.” Oliver laughed before he got it. Then smiled. Then frowned.

“You’re cute when you’re confused.” Felicity smiled, hanging up her apron, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cait. Give Ronnie my best.”

Caitlin mouthed, ‘Future Husband’ at her, and seven months later when she was saying “I do”, she would be right.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i also wrote twenty-six pages of an incubus fic that is being beta'd and my sense8 fics i should be working on but this wrote itself.


End file.
